Episode Eighty Eight
Gwen had been thinking about Harry's problem for some time now. Problems, she corrected herself. He was graduating from a magical learning institution and had no clue where to go next. She had faced that same decision not that long ago and while being a teacher was something she enjoyed it wasn't what she loved. She wasn't sure what she loved. She felt the strange magnetic pull of something else, but as she didn't know what that something else was she couldn't very well pursue it.
She didn't feel much like doling out advice to Harry if she didn't even know what to do with her own life.
"August 23rd must be an important day for you." Graves observed, once again lounging on Gwen's bed after a long day of wandering about under the invisibility cloak.
Gwen looked at him shocked and startled out of her thoughts. It was indeed an important day, but how he knew that… She noticed the handwritten schedule he had clasped in his hand. Every date thereon had something scribbled near it but that one. It was her own handwriting.
She had been making these handwritten schedules for years, trying to get her tasks straight. She had a tendency to be a bit forgetful, but writing things down seemed to help. She had sat down just last night after grading the first years' DADA finals and worked up a schedule for the entire summer. She was going to be doing some Order business and lesson plans with Anthony, plus her trip with Graves. She had found that everyday of the summer had some activity with the exception of one, August 23rd.
"It would have to be an important day, otherwise you'd make up something to do, huh?" He continued.
She jerked her head in a singular affirmative nod, folding her arms across her chest. She looked suddenly smaller, as if she could wrap herself into a tiny ball she would.
"You and I are a lot alike," he said. "We have many secrets that we tell no one, not even ourselves."
She studied him carefully, during his lengthy confinement at Hogwarts he had become subdued, almost docile. He really had only Gwen to talk to, and while he didn't mind this at all he could've spent the rest of his life just talking to Gwen, he had found a sort of solitude he was unaccustomed to. His usual temperament had been quieted, suffocated under a blanket of secrets. There was no telling when or if he would throw off this comforter of silence.
"It's my birthday." She said finally. "And the day my father died." She swiped at her watery eyes. "Must be allergic to something." She joked.
He smiled kindly. "You know, it's ok to feel conflicted. You want to celebrate the passage of another year and yet you want to grieve for another year without your dad. It's not a crime to be confused."
"But to be conflicted every day of your life?"
Graves was grinning at her and she was afraid he was about to laugh. "Guenivere, as long as I've known you, you've never ceased to amaze me."
"How's that?"
"You still wish you could be normal, don't you?"
"Not as much as I used to." She started slowly. "I figured in the dream world that I was different for a good reason, but I didn't really want to give that up. I just wished sometimes that things could be…" She paused, for lack of a better word: "normal. I guess."
"You could never be normal. Besides, there's no such thing."
"That's what my mom would say. You remember when I said 'I don't make magic; things just tend to happen around me.'?"
He nodded. It had been a long time ago in the dream world one late night when neither could sleep. He had called her over and she lay across his bed, her head on his stomach talking philosophy and whatever came to mind. He had asked her if she'd done any magic recently and she had replied:
"I don't really make magic; things just tend to happen around me."
"I still feel that way sometimes." She continued. "It doesn't always feel like the magic is coming from me. It's hard to describe." She added at the appearance of Graves' furrowed brow.
He looked at her a long time trying to think of a way to ease her worries.
She gave a soft, short laugh. "I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. It's late."
"It is late. I should go."
"You could stay." She said lightly.
"You wouldn't mind?"
"The bed's big enough for both of us, just don't try to pull any fast moves on me ok?"
"Ok." He said mocking ever so slightly.
"You don't want to be on the wrong side of my wand." She threatened.
"No, no I don't." He conceded, curling up beside her on the bed.
She fell asleep soon after, knowing that for the first time in weeks her father would not be joining her for their nightly conversation. Graves however, didn't sleep for hours, haunted by images he didn't have the heart to utter. Sometime in the night she snuggled into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. Only then was he at last able to close his eyes and dream.
